Dignity
by Br33zy
Summary: Brendan-based one-shot. They say he left one clear summer's night with his backpack, his Pokemon and his dignity.


**Dignity**

**Genre**: Angst

**Fiction Rated**: K+ for older audience material

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pokémon.

**Last Revised**: 12/08/08

I'm back with another one-chapter story hoping that my writer's block for HLBMA by writing these little mini-fic, one-shot,things. Stupid reason to write, I know. Well enjoy, ja?

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The shrieks and screams of fans were unbearable, but he kept his determined, smug face plastered on like a mask. What he felt inside was anger – intolerable anger that ran through his veins, mixing in with his blood. Through gritted teeth, he returned his fallen Swampert who was defeated by his opponent's Blaziken. If only that Beautifly wasn't able to spread her toxic spores from her wings, poisoning his Swampert. If only he held on one more minute. If only ...

He was sure that he would of had this battle in the bag. Yet he lost. Brendan Birch was finally defeated.

His eyes narrowed into slits as he glared icy cold daggers at the victor through his piercing red eyes. The summer sun beat hotly at his back, and he wished that he could summon angry, dark thunder clouds that could match his sullen mood. It would cool him down, and it would rain on the winner's parade. Shrugging his backpack onto his shoulder, he walked across the rocky battlefield, ready for any put-downs that his opponent gave him. The wind rushed through his snowy white hair as he trod over slowly, tiny pebbles crunching beneath his feet.

His opponent was already swarmed by paparazzi, so he waited at the outlines, not eager enough to push his way through but mentally edging the crowds away with his mind. At last, the hordes of fans died down until he was the only one left. The only one standing there.

Apparently, the victor did not have the courage anymore to talk to him.

Brendan shoved his hands into his pants' pockets and kicked a nearby boulder in frustration. He looked at the empty stands that were filled with thousands of people only a hour ago. He could hear their roar of triumph, their cry of defeat. He could imagine the waving of their flags that flapped loudly in the wind, and the posters they decorated on neon-colored paper, hoping to catch the battlers' attention. The screaming rung endlessly through his ears, the pictures never fading from his memories.

Brendan walked out of the arena and onto Ever Grande's main road. The streets were buzzing with excitement with people dancing and balloons decorating the sky with their bright colors. The sound of laughter was everywhere. They didn't seem to take notice that the understudy of the Hoenn League was standing there in the crowded streets. They didn't seem to care.

The trainer felt depressed that no one regarded him but was relieved that he wouldn't have to be bombarded with questions about losing to his friend or how it felt to come so far and then get his dreams squashed in a matter of forty-five minutes.

Shaking his head, he strolled down the cobblestone streets and into the hotel rooms the league provided them. Climbing up the steps to the third floor, Brendan found his room – the first door on the right. He fished the key out of his backpack and opened the door.

Slamming the door behind him, Brendan took off his backpack and threw it onto the floor with a hard thump. He collapsed onto the bed, reached for the remote control, and turned on the television. The T.V. flickered before his eyes. Nothing was on except reports of the big battle today between him and his opponent. Brendan felt his eyes narrow in anger – that didn't happen! He did not sacrifice his Aggron for nothing! He did not send out his Mightyena with only half its health! He did not want to lose! He did not.

What he did not understand was why everyone saw the mistakes he made in the battle but not the accomplishments he achieved. Like how his Swampert practically cracked the field in half with a mighty sweep of his tail or the way that his Absol's Shadow Ball completely wiped out his opponent's Tropius. But that's television for you, always trying to keep the media happy and not always telling the truth or giving out all the information.

The white-haired trainer sighed, downcast. He jumped up out of bed and walked over to the window, staring at the festival below him. Light flashed, bells rung, fireworks exploded in the night sky – he wished that this celebration was for him. Wishing for things were for fools though, and he was no fool. Not anymore.

Brendan felt the sudden urge to go back to the festival and maybe try to have some fun. It was better than sitting around, moping. He placed his one-strap backpack over his shoulder again when he reached the door, making sure to lock the door behind him before going down – he had the feeling that some paparazzi were trying to dig up some dirt on him, and what better place to start than his room? He walked down the carpeted steps and exited the hotel building, greeted with the mixed scent of different foods. He smiled as two children chased each other down the streets. He grinned as an elderly couple linked arm in arm walked passed him. But he frowned when he saw ... her.

His opponent and best friend May.

She was yards away from him on a stage decorated with streamers, balloons, and confetti. She stood out though she was wearing nothing special, just her regular red t-shirt, black biker shorts and white gloves. That same, old bandanna was tied around her chestnut-colored hair. Her sapphire blue eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, and she had a calm demeanor about her, very different from the past champions who always had a beaming smile etched on their face.

Brendan felt a swarm of butterflies in his stomach as he walked closer and closer to the girl Pokémon Champion. His heart throbbed in his chest, and he began to sweat. Finally, he reached the stage and gazed up at May who was busy giving a speech to the hundreds of her fans.

"I would also like to thank-" May looked down at front and saw her best friend staring at her, void of emotion.

Brendan stared into May's deep blue eyes, not smiling but not glaring either. He rarely blinked as if locked in her trance. His arm's laid lifeless at his sides, and the southeastern winds brushed through his hair.

The crowd was getting restless. Why did the new champion stop in the middle of her speech? One little boy a few feet away saw Brendan in the front.

"Hey! It's the loser that lost to May!" the little boy piped up.

The crowds gasped and they all eyed the white-haired trainer whose eyes were cast upwards to their new champion. It was silent for a moment until one person began to laugh. Another one joined in, and another and soon, the entire crowd of fans were laughing. Brendan blinked twice and snapped out of his trance. He was clueless to why they were laughing all of a sudden. Did May say something funny without him noticing? After listening to the laughter for a few more seconds he realized ...

They were laughing at him.

Why they were laughing, he didn't know. But that question was answered also when various people shouted all the mistakes and goof-ups that Brendan made during his battle with May. About the face he made when his Absol fainted. About the way his Swampert tripped on a boulder and landed head first in the pool of water. About every little detail!

It hurt.

Not because the fact that he was being made fun of by people he didn't know.

But the fact that his best friend did nothing to stop them.

Brendan reached for a Pokéball but realized that he left his Pokémon in the Pokémon Center. Instead, he pushed his way through the endless crowd of people and ran back into the hotel. He sprinted up the stairs, unlocked his room and slammed the door behind him so hard that it felt like the floor shook. Brendan leaned on the back of the door and slid down, his bottom meeting the dirty, carpeted ground. He didn't cry. He wouldn't give those people called 'fans' the satisfaction of it.

He also wouldn't let them have the chance to mock him anymore. Not ever again.

They say Brendan Birch left one clear summer's night with his backpack and his Pokemon. But they forgot the most important item of all ...

His dignity.

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Well anyhoo, let's see if this story worked . Nope still got writer's block.

And I kinda have no clue why Brendan would leave because May didn't stand up for him. Wuss. Haha.

LaTeR dAyZ!


End file.
